Arcana (33 page)

Lucy paces in front of me. “Then when? You cannot remain in this horrible limbo of not knowing forever.”

“Better that than knowing for sure I’ve lost my chance with him forever.”

Lucy slams her tea cup down on the table. “Are you listening to yourself, Wren? It doesn’t even sound like you!”

My eyes widen at her tone. Her cheeks are flushed with the intensity of her feeling. Immediately my self-righteous attitude deflates. A sob is struggling its way out of my throat, but I swallow it down. Tears fill my eyes anyway. “Because I love him too much to hear the truth,” I say in a tortured voice.

Her anger disappears as quickly as it came. She wraps her arms around me. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you. You’ve been through so much.”

I shake my head, tears still making tracks down my cheeks. “No, I needed to hear it.”

She pulls back and stares into my eyes. “We could have a compromise. You could think on it tonight and send word to him in the morning.”

I hesitate because, truthfully, even tomorrow is too soon. “I can agree to that.”

“Good.” She grins. “Because if you don’t, I will.”

Mary interrupts us with a bob of her head in apology. “Pardon me, mum, but a Miss Eliza Gray has come to call on you. Shall I . . . show her in?” she asks hesitantly when I do nothing but stare at her.

“I suppose,” I say finally.

“Are you sure, miss?”

I glance at Lucy. “Yes, it’s fine. She can . . . join us for tea.”

“Are you mad?” Lucy asks in an angry hiss as soon as the door closes behind Mary. “You should have turned her away!”

“No, I will hear her out.” I’m sure I will only regret it, but I must know how much damage has been done.

Mary returns with Eliza, who is dressed in a lavender striped satin gown. She looks regal in it, and I glance down at my casual white blouse and dark skirt with a frown. Already she has made me feel inadequate, and she hasn’t said a word.

Despite her noble appearance, my sister and I still outrank her, so we keep our seats. “Hello, Eliza,” I say, and Lucy mumbles a half-hearted greeting. I hold out a hand toward the pale pink chair across from us. “Won’t you sit?”

“I cannot stay long,” she says as if we were the ones to invite her. Her eyes sweep around the room as she sits on the very edge of the chair.

“Tea?” I ask.

She barely hides the upward curl of her lip. “No, thank you.”

When she continues to look around the room, I sigh. “What brings you here? Last we spoke, you ran away screaming.”

“I came to be sure what you
did
,” her emphasis on the last word is like a verbal sneer, “doesn’t have any lasting effects.”

Lucy stiffens beside me, and I put a hand on her arm. “What I did? You mean, saving your life? Should I have left you with the branch protruding from your lung then?”

“How do I know you didn’t bewitch that horse in the first place?”

Anger explodes inside me. “Believe me, if I had any wish to harm you, I wouldn’t have suffered through your odious company for so long.”

Her eyes narrow. “I knew it. You are capable of harming someone. I hope they lock you up in Bedlam.”

Being imprisoned in an insane asylum would be a worse fate than death, and for a moment, the possibility strikes me mute. I think of the conversation I once stumbled upon at a country dance in Gloucestershire. How the asylum treated its inmates with the utmost cruelty and inhumane treatment. How it had a dark history of allowing the public to view the inmates and mock their unstable mental states.

My greatest fear has been my family’s good name being ruined because of my mistakes, but Bedlam would be so much worse—for us all.

“You are being most unkind,” Lucy says, her fingers gripping her tea cup tightly. She turns to me. “I think she should leave, Wren.”

“I don’t take threats of Bedlam lightly,” I say, my expression hardening. “I have never done the least bit of harm to you, and from the moment you met me, you have treated me as the worst sort of criminal. Against my better judgment, I let you into this room. But I see you have nothing but vitriol to spew, as usual.”

She stands, her chin arrogantly held aloft. “I treated you the way you should have been treated by everyone who met you. To think, a rebellious little outsider from Gloucestershire could attract the attention of Lord Thornewood! As if that wasn’t enough, you had the ability to enchant him with your witchcraft. You probably even went so far as to bewitch that poor little boy into running toward the river!”

“That’s enough,” I say and stand so I am at eye-level with her. “Your accusations are groundless.”

“I know what you are now,” she says, “and I’ve already told as many people as I could. All of London knows Lord Thornewood abandoned you as soon as he saw you for what you were. You’re in disgrace, Katherine Sinclair, just as you should have been the moment you set foot in London.”

My voice shakes with anger. “Leave. Now.”

She smiles meanly and walks toward the door. “You’ll never have him now,” she says over her shoulder. “I will make certain of that.”

The door closes behind her, and I have to bite back the tears. Because I know she’s right. Lord Thornewood will never have me now.

Later in the afternoon, with Eliza’s threats still fresh in my mind, I sit down to write a note to Lord Thornewood. I cannot let Eliza prevent me from at least trying to reach out to him. Not when the love I feel for him threatens to break me if it is not returned. After mentally crumpling numerous sheets of paper, I pen a note to him.

I struggled with the closing more than the actual words. Would he think I was being too forward in using the word “yours”? But then, it’s the truth. I am his, though I am no longer sure he is mine—if ever he was.

I hand Mary the carefully folded note when she comes to help me dress for bed. “Will you be so kind as to put this note in the morning’s post?”

She glances down at Lord Thornewood’s name printed carefully on the front. “Yes, mum.”

I close my eyes in relief. “Thank you so much.”

I’m able to relax as she brushes the braids out of my hair and ties it back loosely with a satin ribbon. For better or worse, I will have a response from Lord Thornewood on the morrow.

TWENTY-FOUR

D
AYS
go by with no word from Lord Thornewood. At the end of the first day, disappointment and despair threatened to consume me. But now I have cocooned myself in a sort of numb apathy.

By the fourth day, Lucy is desperate to bolster my spirits.

“We could go for a ride in the park,” she says with a forced smile. “Anything to escape the confines of this house, right?”

I stab the needle through the rose I’m embroidering. “It’s a tad too warm for riding today.”

Lucy releases a tortured sigh. “And yesterday it was too humid. The day before was too sunny.”

“I cannot help it if the weather is uncooperative,” I say without looking up from my embroidery.

“It is you who is being uncooperative,” Lucy says, her tone full of exasperation. “All I want is my sister back.”

“Then concentrate on your studies and leave me to wallow in the pain of being right.”

She’s quiet for so long I almost believe she’s given up. “There must be some explanation,” she whispers. She sounds so lost I finally look up.

“There is, but you won’t hear of it.”

She wraps her arms around herself. “I just cannot believe he would do such a thing.”

“Not everyone can handle knowing the truth about our kind,” I say gently.

“Papa can. He cannot be the only one.”

I return to my embroidery. “It certainly appears that way.”

“And why hasn’t Grandmama required you to attend any balls? It’s odd, don’t you think?”

“Not at all. I’m sure she cannot bear the censure we’re sure to meet. I’ve destroyed any hope of a successful debut, remember?” I stab the needle through again and end up pricking my finger. I watch the blood well at the tip. Because of my recklessness, I have ruined not only my chance for a happy marriage, but Lucy’s and Robert’s as well.

I should have left Eliza to her games when I had the chance. She would have flirted shamelessly with Lord Thornewood for awhile, but it would have been like a soothing balm for her anger. I let my own pride and jealousy get in the way, and it cost me everything. So far, no one from Bedlam has come for me, but I freeze in terror every time one of the servants enters the room. I’m sure Eliza has done as she promised in every other regard, however, and my reputation is in tatters.

Lucy sits beside me on the settee. “I have a confession,” she says, and I pause in my sewing and drop the blood-stained embroidery to my lap. “Before we even left Lord Thornewood’s, I told Grandmama I wanted to send word to Robert. I penned a short note we needed to see him, but I haven’t heard back. For awhile I thought he’d simply appear, but there’s been no sign of him.”

“I was wondering why he did not come,” I say, a little embarrassed to admit I wanted the same. It was better for him to take sanctuary at Oxford for as long as he could.

“I was about to send a telegram to Papa as well, but then you woke, and well, here we are.”

“I’m afraid my ability to process abstract concepts has left me of late,” I say, my voice a tired reflection of the way I feel. “You’ll have to be more precise explaining your thoughts.”

“I’m worried my note was intercepted. And if the one to Robert was, then perhaps the one to Lord Thornewood was as well.”

The smallest bud of hope stirs inside me, but I push it down. “What would Grandmama have to gain in such an endeavor?” But even as I ask it, I think of her unusual behavior of late. The suspicious letter, the rude treatment of Lord Thornewood, her apparent disinterest in our developing relationship.

“I know it isn’t much to go on, but I cannot escape this feeling.”

“We must think on this further,” I say. “We don’t have all the facts, and we are restricted by our lack of independence. We cannot even leave the house without Grandmama knowing.”

Lucy is quiet for a time, worrying the skirt of her dress as she thinks. She finally says in a hushed voice, “Not if we leave at night.”

I turn to her with shock warring against amusement. What had become of my well-mannered little sister? “And go where?”

“To Lord Thornewood’s.”

I cannot help but smile at the determination in her eyes. “I dare not argue with you when you are in this mood, but I feel I must point out we have no idea where his townhome is located.”

Her face falls for a moment. “Then we shall walk the streets until we find it.”

I shake my head. “Absolutely not. It’s much too dangerous, and my power has not returned to the same level it was before.”

“We cannot stop trying. Let’s ask Grandmama about going to the park. If we go every day, we may run into Lord Thornewood.”

“Very well,” I say, getting to my feet.

Before I can walk to the door, the footman enters. “Miss Sinclair, there’s a gentleman here to see you. Shall I show him in?”

I glance back at Lucy, whose face is awash with excitement and hope.

“Please do.”

“Very good, miss,” he says and leaves to retrieve him.

Lucy jumps to her feet. “It’s Lord Thornewood! It has to be. He must have sought you out after he didn’t hear from you.”

A smile is spreading slowly over my face. Could Lucy have been right all along?

The door opens again, and we turn to greet our visitor.

But instead of Lord Thornewood’s characteristic dark form, the meticulously dressed Lord Blackburn stands in the doorway.

I stand gaping, all trace of my welcoming smile long gone. My heartbeat thuds in my ears, though I wonder how my heart continues to beat at all. I almost wish it was someone from Bedlam. I think they would be more of a welcome sight than the man who attacked and threatened me. Lucy looks confused, then apprehensive, lines forming between her arched brows.